


blame it on the kitty

by bellamyslady



Series: 2017 Writing Challenge [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Is this even fluff?, Minor Raven Reyes, Underwear Theft, there's a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 04:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9531674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamyslady/pseuds/bellamyslady
Summary: "So, you lied." He smirked. “Do you know what boys like me do to naughty girls who lie?”Bellamy steals Clarke's pudding. At the same time, there's a thief stealing Bellamy's boxers. Not to mention, they don't like each other. Will Clarke's desserts ever be safe? Will the underwear thief be found?





	

**Author's Note:**

> this represents the first fic of my 2017 goal to write one fic each week of the year. it's different than my regular style but this challenge was all about stepping outside of my writing comfort zone. i hope you guys like it. i had fun with their bickering. i would have liked to write longer but that was the challenge. 
> 
> based on this [post](http://perfectlyrose.tumblr.com/post/143004957787).

“Hey, Raven. Have you seen my share of Harper’s pudding? I don't remember eating it at all." Clarke peered into the refrigerator, pushing aside other labelled containers and looking for hers. "I swear I put it in here. And, I’m pretty sure I put my name on it."

Harper's puddings were legendary. Clarke hadn't been able to attend the party because of finals but Harper had set aside some for her. It was her post-exam reward, damn it.

"Maybe Cat here ate it. You know, if it weren't for me, she'd be a bunch of bones now." Raven scratched the tabby behind the ears as she strutted in front of her on the dining table. "You like me better than you like Clarke, don't you?"

"Oh, don't be dramatic. I asked you to feed her once!" Clarke shut the fridge and sat next to Raven. She held her hand out. Immediately, the tabby nudged against her palm, a soft purr vibrating through her body. "Besides, I rescued her. She should love me more."

Clarke found Cat in a dumpster on her way back from class, wet and bedraggled. She smuggled her into her dorm room with the intention of nursing her back to health and then finding a good home for her. But Cat wouldn’t leave her side and Clarke refused to part with her, much to Raven’s annoyance. It wasn’t long before Cat became a permanent resident at Arkadia, nosing her way into everyone’s room and hearts. Clarke indulged the tabby, scratching her behind her ears and under her chin before it hit her.

“Damn it. Why didn’t I think of it?” She narrowed her eyes, the name like a curse on her lips, "Bellamy."

Even the tabby stilled beneath her fingers.

Raven frowned. “Hot Bellamy? The one with the…,” Raven gestured, “sex hair and the fuck me eyes?”

“He is not hot!”

“If you insist.” Raven smirked. “But hey, we all don’t mean the things we say when we’re drunk, right?”

“If I didn’t love you so much,” Clarke said before storming down the hallway, Cat hot on her heels.

Bellamy's room was only a couple of doors away from hers, that sneaky bastard. He could have knocked and asked. Clarke wouldn't have said yes but she would have considered sharing. And it was always the desserts. She once left a casserole in there for over a week because she'd forgotten about it. It had turned into a gross mess when she finally remembered.

"Bellamy!" Clarke pounded on his door, earning her a couple of stares from some students. Most just walked right on by. This was normal. Bellamy had enough girls at his door, demanding to be let in. "I know you're in there. I can smell your stupid cologne."

Clarke pounded harder on the door, even delivering one or two kicks to it. Her last knock connected with thin air when the door opened without warning, leaving her flailing, her fist heading for that beautiful cheekbone. She squeaked a warning; she didn't actually intend to hit him.

Bellamy caught her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. They were vices of heat, searing straight to the juncture of her thighs. But he didn't let go. Instead, he pinned her arm above her head, his eyes bleary and unfocused. "You woke me up." Then, he yawned. "I’m surprised you know what I smell like."

She tugged hard but his grip was relentless. "It's hard not to when you seem to bathe in it." She frowned slightly. "Let me go, Bellamy."

Instead, he leaned his head against the door frame and regarded her, sleep clouding those chocolate depths. His curls fell over his brow in a carefree manner, so different from the effortless mess that he usually styled it in. Bellamy was the talkative sort; a snarky or sarcastic reply always on the tip of his tongue. But he didn't say a single word. "People are staring. Let me go."

"Oh.” And then, with a gentle jerk, he tugged her into his room, the door shutting behind her and enveloping them in darkness.

"Seriously, you're sleeping in the middle of the day? You, Bellamy Blake, skip class?"

He turned on a lamp, washing the room in a soft, orange glow. Oh. "You're shirtless." Clarke was not the type to be shy but still, she felt a warm glow in the pit of her belly.

"Yeah. You're lucky I put on pants." He winked and grinned at her, encouraging the fluttering in her stomach.

He sat down on his bed and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it. But all Clarke could see was that bare chest and lower, the washboard abs that all his conquests raved about. She swallowed hard, imagining the things she could do with him. Or he could do with her, if going by the stories his numerous girlfriends told.

She wasn’t some innocent virgin, damn it. This was the asshole who stole any and all desserts with her name on it. Desserts! Pudding!

“Did you—” Clarke began but Bellamy was already on his back, an arm flung over his eyes. She approached him carefully, like she would with a stray and wild animal and gently nudged him in the side. He groaned. Okay, he wasn't dead.

Clarke sighed softly and sat down beside him, the bed sinking under her generously. "You're really tired, aren't you?"

Bellamy was quiet, his breathing steady and calm. Clarke had to admit: he looked pretty angelic when he slept. As angelic as Lucifer could get that is. Her sugary treats were on his tongue and his perfectly carved lips, the corners curled devilishly as if he was being wicked, even in his dreams. She tried not to look but her eyes brushed over his naked torso anyway, her fingers itching for charcoal to draw him the way the light cast on his bronzed skin.

Well, this was a bust. He was too sleepy to own up to his crimes. Clarke scanned his room, looking for her blue lunch box but it was not in any place visible. Her eyes landed on his pile of folded laundry, specifically on the dark pair of boxers with what looked like tiny crowns printed on them. She didn’t know to laugh or stop thinking about what lay beneath his waistband. _God, she was such a pervert_. "Stayed up all night making flyers."

Was it her imagination or had he said something? Clarke leaned closer to him, frowning. "Flyers for what?"

Bellamy sat up without warning. Clarke reared back, almost falling off the bed. "Fucking hell, Blake. Some warning would be nice."

Instead of apologising, he grabbed a stack of papers off his desk and thrust them at her. "Here, take them."

She took them, gingerly. "Some kinky sex party?"

"Very funny, Griffin. This is serious stuff. There's an underwear thief in Arkadia! I've had to buy new boxers twice in a week. Twice! Well, he steals socks as well but whatever."

"I didn't need to know about your boxers but okay." She was lying. Clarke's eyes involuntarily drifted to his pants. His old sweats moulded to his body, picking out his rock hard thighs and a bulge that was hard to miss, even in the low light.

"Not even the least bit interested?" Bellamy grinned and Clarke's butterflies fluttered annoyingly.

"You wish." She scanned the flyer. "Besides, how sure are you the thief's a guy? Maybe, she's a girl? After all, she's stealing a guy's underwear. And we're just as resourceful and crafty."

"Good point. I'll change it."

 _Do not ask him if he's wearing underwear. Don't you dare ask him, Clarke. I know what you're thinking. Stop it. Stop right now._ "So, are you wearing any underwear?"

Surprise and wickedness flashed across his chiselled features. And then, Clarke was flat on her back, Bellamy over her, his knees on either side of her waist and his hands braced beside her head. She couldn't breathe. This was not how she imagined confronting Bellamy over pudding. "So, you lied." He smirked. “Do you know what boys like me do to naughty girls who lie?”

Both of them glanced down to where their bits hovered mere inches away from each other. Bellamy’s eyes trailed her body, mentally undressing her as he met her eyes. “You brought them up,” she said. “Ugh, why are you so gross?”

At the same time, Clarke dug her fingers into his covers, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck like she would with a lover. His eyes were bright and clear, none of that pesky sleep that had gotten her into this predicament. In fact, there was the hint of a wicked twinkle. “Why are you here, Griffin?”

“You pulled me in.” Clarke rolled her eyes.

“No. I mean, why were you banging on my door?” Bellamy asked. “Not that I don’t love banging.”

Clarke ignored his last statement. “You stole my pudding.” It was a statement. Not a question.

Recognition sparked in his eyes. “Ah, and what glorious pudding it was.” Either she had an incredible imagination or the way he said pudding made her curl her toes deliciously, a pleasure singing through her veins.

“That was my pudding.” Annoyed, both at herself and Bellamy, Clarke smacked him hard in the shoulder. He didn’t budge an inch so she shoved lightly at him and he got the hint, moving off her.

“Ouch. That really hurt.” He rubbed his shoulder, wincing dramatically.

“That’s what you get for stealing my pudding. And my cupcakes, my pancakes. You know what you steal! You’ve been a pain in my ass ever since you moved in. Do you really have to steal my food? My name’s on the container for fuck’s sake.” Clarke stood up and backed away from the bed, lest she wanted to return to it and Bellamy’s very warm, very solid chest. Her eyes landed on his stack of flyers. “I’ll be sure to thank your underwear thief.”

“It isn’t my fault you leave them there for too long.” Bellamy smirked.

“I want my lunch box back.”

“Come and get it.” Bellamy leaned back against the headboard, his arms folded behind his head and highlighting muscles she didn’t want to think about.

Clarke opened the door, peeking out to see if anyone would catch her leaving. “Don’t worry, princess. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“And what would I say about you?”

“I swept you off your feet? I gave you the afternoon of a lifetime? I’m sure you’ll be creative.”

Clarke flipped him off and smiled sweetly, backing out of his room. “Have fun not having any underwear.”

“Oh, I will.”

Bellamy’s chuckle rang in her ears as she returned to her room, slamming the door hard and startling Raven. The latter only laughed and said, “Will the both of you just fuck already?”

**LATER THAT NIGHT**

“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Raven asked, her dress sparkling whenever it moved. She was close to blinding Clarke and catching the eye of every boy in the vicinity. “You’re starting to become a hermit.”

“I spent a month being a hermit for finals. I think one extra day won’t hurt. Besides, what’s better company than Netflix?”

“Why are you such a freak, Clarke Griffin?” Raven threw a pillow at her.

“This is mine now.” Clarke tucked the pillow into her pillow fort. “Hey, have you seen Cat?”

Raven shook her head. “Not since this afternoon.”

“If you see her outside, tell her curfew is at midnight. And try not to get her drunk.” Clarke tucked her feet under her covers and cradled the red wine bottle she bought specifically for this occasion. “And you. Don’t bring a boy back unless he’s really, really cute. I don’t want some stranger eyeballing me again.”

Raven snorted. “I’ll bring you back some vodka.”

“No boys.”

“Unless he’s really cute.”

The door shut behind Raven and Clarke clicked play, finally catching up on all the shows she missed while focusing on not failing.

* * *

 

Clarke was halfway into the fifth episode of Stranger Things with her lights off when there came a thump on her windowsill. In the dark, all she could see was the silhouette of a humped creature.

Biting back a scream, she ran to the lights and turned on all of them. “Fuck, Cat. Did you have to go and scare me like that? You know very well not to scare me on Netflix nights.”

Cat, being the snob she was, merely leapt off the sill and onto Clarke’s bed, dragging what looked like—“Drop that! You drop it right now! What are you carrying? Open your mouth. You’re not getting any treats. Bad kitty.”

Boxers, it was definitely a pair of boxers. Clarke liked to think she’s seen enough to be able to identify a pair but this one seemed suspiciously like the one from Bellamy’s room. Cat refused to drop it.

Instead, she sashayed over to Clarke’s closet where her clothing spilled out in a careless mess. Clarke knew what she would find but she followed Cat anyway. The butterflies in her stomach were in frenzy. “I swear, you’re not getting treats for an entire month. And, you’re on lock down until you’ve learnt not to steal things.” Clarke paused as Cat worked her way under the closet. She groaned. “Why are you such a pervert? Couldn’t you have stolen something normal? Now how am I going to explain this?”

Primly, Cat emerged from underneath and began washing herself. “You’re not going to even help me get it all out?” If cats could talk, Cat would have given her a resounding “fuck no”.  

* * *

 

By the time Clarke was done digging out Cat’s stash and sorting through the clothing she had stolen, there were twenty-three pairs of boxers, four pairs of socks and another four stray socks. She had abandoned Stranger Things halfway through her endeavour. Images of the soft and worn boxers against Bellamy’s skin kept popping into her mind.

The guilty party was curled up against her thigh, lightly snoring. “It’s time to go confess, thief,” she whispered, lighting stroking Cat between her ears. Clarke could not resist her. “You’d better have a really good reason why you did this. You’re making me look bad here.”

Cat didn’t budge. Clarke found one of the leftover packing boxes from when she moved into the dorm and packed in socks and boxers—she hoped they were very, very clean—to take to Bellamy’s room. She wasn’t going to risk being caught carrying underwear to his room. Especially, if he’s already put up the flyers.

For good measure, she picked up her still sleeping cat and tucked her into the box.

The butterflies threatened to erupt from her stomach in a gruesome display that would be less embarrassing than revealing that she, or rather, her cat was the thief he was looking for. Hand trembling, Clarke knocked.

“I already said, I’m not in the mood—” came Bellamy’s voice from inside the room, stopping short only when he opened the door. At least, he had put on some clothes. He grinned when he saw her, immediately leaning against the door frame and crossing his legs and arms. “Twice in one day, Griffin. I didn’t know you liked me so much.”

“I don’t.”

A couple of girls walked past, giggling behind their hands. “You’re ruining my reputation here. I never sleep with the same girl twice.” Clarke rolled her eyes. “I might make an exception for you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself because I’m not interested.” Silence stretched between them as Clarke sought the right words and Bellamy waited for her next move.

“Is there something you need, Griffin? I’ve got a paper that needs my attention.”

“Can I come in?”

His eyes lit up and his grin deepened, turning into a smirk. He stepped aside and waved her through. Clarke took one look around her to make sure no one was watching—there was probably someone watching—and hurried into his room. She felt a little like Red Riding Hood and Bellamy was the Big Bad Wolf. And suddenly, all she could think about was being ravaged. God, what was wrong with her?

Bellamy shut the door and leaned against it. Clarke could picture a cigarette tucked into the corner of his lips. “I have something of yours,” she said, holding up the box.

“What is it?”

“I found your thief?”

Bellamy narrowed his eyebrows, taking the box from her and setting it on the bed. He opened it and picked up Cat who looked pretty pissed off at being awoken. Instead of setting her down, he cradled her and she went right back to sleep in his arms. “What’s your cat doing in here?” he asked. At the same time, he tipped the box over and shook out the contents.

“She’s your thief.”

 Bellamy did a quick count of the boxers and socks that spilled out and turned to her, a slow smirk on his lips. He set Cat down on his bed and stalked towards Clarke, closing the space between them quickly. She didn’t recall moving but she was pressed against the door, the wood cool against her back. “Are you sure you didn’t steal them and put the blame on your cat?”

“Why would I be interested in your boxers? There are hundreds of boxers in this dorm more appealing than yours.” But, it didn’t have the gravitas and the effect Clarke wanted. Instead, it was more of a breathy confession.

“You were pretty interested this afternoon.” He leaned closer, his head tilted low and his arm braced above her head.

Clarke didn’t know what to say. “Cat got your tongue?” Bellamy teased, running a single finger up her arm. The path he left behind seared its way down between her thighs.

“No, the cat stole your underwear.”

“And what shall we do with naughty pussies?” His breath curled across her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, collecting in her wicked, betraying centre. He smelled slightly of whiskey with a hint of spearmint and something inherently Bellamy.

“I could do your homework?”

“I was referring to your cat over there. But, if you want to talk about yourself, we’ll have to be more creative. Besides, I don’t think you’d be very good at History.”

“Why is it that every time I’m in your room, this happens?”

“Because I’m irresistible?”

“Not likely.”

Bellamy leaned slightly closer and Clarke’s breath caught. Something very male in him called to her, clouding her judgement and her senses. “Bake me a cake and we’ll call this even.”

“All I can make are noodles.”

Brazenly, he slid a hand slowly up her arm, giving her time to protest and push him away. His smile deepened when she didn’t and he curved his palm around the base of her neck, his thumb stroking the edge of her jaw. “It doesn’t matter.” He breathed, so close that talking any louder would be shouting. She met his eyes full on and saw the approval in his. “I’d like to lick cream off you any day.”

“Why do you have to be so gross?”

“You like gross. Admit it.”

Clarke shrugged. “I sort of do.”

“It’s a date then.”

“It’s not a date.”

“You say tomato, I say potato.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Clarke pushed lightly against his chest before curling her fingers into his shirt. “Just go put on your underwear and stop complaining.”

Bellamy looked down and captured her hand, smirking. He pressed kisses along her knuckles. “I’m already wearing underwear. Want to check?”

Clarke smirked and slid her hand down his chest, curling her fingers into his waistband. “Let’s see if the rumours are true.”

“They are.” Bellamy smirked.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it. unlike my other fics, there was no soundtrack to this one but this was written mostly to ginuwine's pony which might be partially responsible for the sexy times. this was really different and a step out of my comfort zone. i would have preferred to build their relationship but i challenged myself to write a complete fic in less than 5000 words. i hope you guys liked it. please let me know down below. 
> 
> if you'd like to contribute to my challenge with prompts, send them over at my [tumblr](http://bellamyslady.tumblr.com/).


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